Hope (Croatoan ABO 'Verse Part 7)
by addictcas
Summary: (Endverse AU) Camp Chitaqua gets an SOS from a nearby hunter-run survivor sanctuary. Demon-led croats are on their way, the destructive military not far behind. Cas is going through severe drug withdrawal and is unfit to fight so Dean refuses to let him come on the mission. The stubborn omega doesn't listen. (omega!Castiel/alpha!Dean) (part 7 of series: Croatoan ABO 'Verse)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This fic contains Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics. This includes mpreg, self-lubrication, and knotting. If you're not into that kinky shit, please don't read this. You will be thoroughly weirded out.**

 **characters: Endverse Cas, Endverse Dean, Risa, Chuck Shurley, Hadley Aldridge (cute little OC), Missouri Moseley, Jane, Meg, Crowley, minor OCs, more to be added I'm sure**

 **pairing: Endverse Cas/Endverse Dean**

 **tags: ABO, Endverse (referring to the alternate universe in season 5 episode 4, "The End"), drug abuse/addiction, drug withdrawal, self-lubrication, angst, alpha Dean, omega Cas, croatoans, demons, emotional progress, depression, hurt/comfort,** **hospitalization**

 **Part 1: Heat  
Part 2: Claim  
Part 3: High  
Part 4: Switch  
Part 5: Loss  
Part 6: Broken**

* * *

Set 3 weeks after "Broken."

Ω

Dean knocks on the door frame of Cas' cabin. He's been wandering around camp for about an hour, trying to figure out how to go about this. The dark and jealous side of him kept insisting he bribe an omega girl to leave her scent all over him, maybe leave some lipstick on his neck, but he's trying to help his former mate, not make him more depressed.

The beaded curtain has been put back up, though several beads and strands were broken off by Dean when the omega broke their mating bond, and Dean feels just a little guilty about that. He thinks Cas made it himself, but he was a bit neglectful toward his friend at the time that it went up.

There's no answer, so Dean goes inside to investigate. Cas is lying on his bed, pale and sweaty, and doesn't respond when the alpha calls his name.

Dean panics and runs over to the bed and shakes him, only getting a groan as a reaction.

"Cas!" He desperately slaps the former angel in the face and is relieved when his eyes flutter open.

"Mate," Cas says groggily.

Dean has no idea how to identify the emotions that assault him at that greeting, so he pushes them all aside and sternly replies, "No."

The omega furrows his brow and rubs his bloodshot eyes, looking confused. "What are you doing here?"

Dean reaches into his pocket and pulls out a paper bag. "I have some things for you." He hands the bag to Cas who looks inside skeptically.

"You brought me drugs." He squints at Dean and tilts his head in a way that hurts Dean because he's always found the quirk so endearing.

"They're antidepressants." Dean ignores Cas' eye roll. "Take one every day. With _water_. And food. You don't eat nearly enough."

"Yes, sir," the omega says sarcastically, saluting. This actually makes Dean a little happy, seeing some of his friend's old spark back, even if it's in the form of snarkiness.

Cas shuffles through the bag of pill bottles and pulls out a box. Suboxone. "What's this for?"

"Drug withdrawal," Dean states, expecting a firestorm from the fallen angel.

"And why, may I ask, would I be going through drug withdrawal?"

"Because this hard shit you're taking, that you're fucking _overdosing_ on, it ends today," Dean says with alpha authority.

Cas glares and throws the bag aside. "What gives you the right?"

"I'm the 'fearless leader' of this shithole, remember? The lives of these people people are my responsibility."

The omega crosses his arms, a classic, "you're not getting out without a fight" stance.

"Are you going to take everyone else's, too? It's only fair."

Dean honestly hadn't thought of that. His mind had only really been on Cas. He knows his ex-mate will only fight him harder if he's a hypocrite about it.

"Yes. You junkies can keep your weed, your painkillers, your fucking Adderall for all I care. But the coke, the meth, the heroin, gone."

Dean can smell a mix of anger and anxiety, the strengths about equal. Now that their bond is gone he can't scent Cas' emotions as easily, but these are powerful ones.

"Now get your crap. That's an order."

He watches carefully as Cas stumbles around his cabin like a zombie, looking in drawers and under sheets. When Dean starts shuffling through the omega's things his ex-mate shoves himself in front of him, grabbing Dean for balance for a moment before wrenching his hands away like he's about to get infected with the croatoan virus.

"You don't trust me?" he asks, clearly irritated.

"To find everything, in your condition? No."

"Keep your hands off my stuff," Cas growls.

Dean raises his hands in surrender and backs up, watching the former angel toss powders, pills, what appears to be crack-Jesus Christ- into a box.

"What about hallucinogens?"

Dean scrubs a hand over his face. He feels like he's been way too lenient on Cas already, but he doesn't want to be seen as the enemy and he can't stand the dark and angry scents that are rolling off of the omega in waves.

"You can keep anything that's all natural. 'Shrooms, whatever. But give me everything chemical. And I'd better not ever catch you streaking through the camp thinking you're chasing fairies again."

"Fairies are real, you know," Cas says matter-of-factly.

Dean pauses to think for a moment. The omega could be fucking with him, but there really isn't much that surprises him anymore. "Those ones weren't."

"It was funny, though. Even you admitted it." Castiel says, a hint of a smile on his face.

"Yeah, well, joke's over. Keep packing." He hates ruining the moment they had going, but he was about to make a flirty comment and being an asshole was the first cover-up that came out of his mouth.

Cas scowls and plops down on the floor clumsily, pulling out the box of the more mind-altering drugs from under his bed. As he sorts through his stash he tosses the harsher drugs, the LSD, the MDMA, the PCP, onto the bed, mostly missing the box he's giving to Dean, glaring at the alpha the whole time like he wishes he could still smite.

"Come on, stop being such a brat. This is for the best."

"I told you what's best for me. For you to leave me alone." Dean can hear more self-loathing in his voice than resentment toward him.

"I'm responsible for this camp, including you. I'm not here begging for you to come back. But I won't let you waste away and I certainly won't let you endanger my soldiers and civilians out there on missions when you're high out of your mind."

When Cas is finished with his hallucinogen box he goes to his bedside table and grabs a used syringe and a pack of sterile ones, a huge relief to Dean. He tosses them in the box on the bed and thrusts it at Dean's chest.

"There you go, fearless leader. That's all of it."

The alpha looks at him critically. "You swear?"

Cas puts a hand to his heart. "On my mother's grave. If I had a mother." He smirks. "Wanna cavity search me?"

Dean squints at him and backs away. He can usually tell when Cas is lying and it's usually not to him. He seems genuine.

"I'll have Jane stop by every so often and check on you."

"Right," the omega says with a smile, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "The withdrawal. Can't wait."

Dean wants to say something, wants to tell him that he'll stay and take care of him, but he can't, so he just walks out the door, throwing back a, "Take your Prozac," as he leaves.


	2. Chapter 2

1 week later

"How's Cas doing?" Dean asks Jane, just like he does every day.

"He told me to leave you out of it," the nurse says, just like she does every day. They're both tired of this but Dean wouldn't be Dean if he just let it go.

"He's my responsibility," the alpha tells her.

"He's my patient. I'm taking care of him," she replies, sounding very defensive of Cas.

"You don't think he's been taking anything that's on the list I gave you?"

"No," Jane says firmly, clearly irritated. "I could perform drug tests on him if you would like to piss him off more. I don't have enough tests for the others, though. Not that you ever ask about them" she scolds with an attitude she's never used with him before.

"Watch it," Dean says with all the alpha authority he can muster without sounding like a complete asshole to the woman who is taking care of about a dozen angry junkies suffering through withdrawal. And Cas is the only one Dean gave Suboxone to.

Jane looks down, pink staining her cheeks. "My apologies."

Dean is about to apologize himself when Risa rushes into the med cabin.

"We have an S.O.S. from Hope Springs. Demons and croats are on their way. And the military is not far behind."

"Which military?"

Hope Springs is a hunter-run community made up of mostly military families. It's exclusive, well protected, and always well provided for.

"The one that blows up buildings first and doesn't ask questions."

"Shit." Dean bangs his fist on the table. When Lucifer took over the world was divided in a way it hadn't been before. It wasn't just humans against croats and demons. There were now factions of the military that went rogue, who got paid to take out threats, whether they were guilty or not, tearing apart innocent lives in the process. "How long until they get there?"

"They don't know about the croats," Risa says helplessly. "The warning came from a vision; a gifted person there. But I heard the military is about five hours away."

Damn it. Camp Chitaqua is about four hours away. And they have to rally the team and gather weapons.

"We need all capable hands on deck, ASAP. Meet me in the cafeteria in five."

Ω

About twenty people show up to the meeting, a few of which Dean requests to stay behind, including a 90-lb teenage girl who's never held a weapon in her life. And then Cas shows up, pale and sweating with what the alpha assumes is a smudge of vomit on his sleeve.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," Dean says under his breath. "Risa, you fill them in on what's going on. Two minutes and then we load up the convoy and go. Chuck is already packing up the salt and holy water."

"Got it, boss," Risa says, standing and clearing her throat to get everyone's attention. She's really stepped up to her second-in-command role, filling in the spot that has been Cas' for years.

Dean meets Cas' eyes as he nears him and sees a look of sheer defiance. This isn't going to be easy. He grabs the omega by his shoulder and drags him out the door.

"No way in hell are you coming on this mission," he says sternly.

"I'm a soldier. I was made to be a soldier. I can't stay back and do nothing."

"You are in no state to come with."

Cas gets right up in Dean's face, anger darkening his cheeks slightly. "I'm fine." Dean can smell the puke on his breath. He wrinkles his nose.

"And what are you going to do when you run into the croats, huh? Projectile vomit on them?"

"No," the omega says with frustration. "I'm going to shoot them in the fucking heads."

Dean laughs and pulls his gun out of his thigh holster. His amusement only increases when Cas' eyes linger on the belt, then look away quickly. He's always had a thing for Dean's thigh holster.

"I'll tell you what. Shoot that beer bottle," he tells the fallen angel, pointing at someone's leftovers at one of the picnic tables. "On the first try. Then you can come."

Castiel looks at the gun with an expression of uncertainty, followed by a cocky grin. "Easy."

He grabs the gun and lifts it in his right hand and his whole arm trembles. He uses his left for support but the tremors only get worse. Normally this would be pretty easy for the omega. Cas has always been much better with knives and blades, having used them for centuries, but he adapted to firearms quite well. Dean can tell he's struggling to hide how challenging this is for him.

"Give up?" Dean asks.

Cas doesn't even spare him a glance, just takes a deep breath and pulls the trigger on the exhale, just like Dean taught him. The bullet hits a tree about fifteen feet away from the target.

Dean grabs the gun from the confused-looking Cas, who is trying to see where his shot landed.

"That tree," the alpha tells him, pointing it out. "The one where the teenagers used to carve their initials in hearts. I think you just broke up Maggie and Jason."

"They're probably dead now anyways," Cas says grimly. The couple left two years ago, joining the military.

"You will be too if you go out fighting in your condition. And with that aim, you'll probably take out a few civilians with you."

"I can be useful in other ways," Cas pleads.

"You're staying here. End of conversation." Dean pats the omega awkwardly on the bicep and makes his way to the vehicles to help load up weapons, looking back once and seeing the enraged glare, Cas appearing as intimidating as one can while being several pounds underweight and suffering from severe drug withdrawal.

His ex-mate watches him for a minute as everyone prepares for the brutal battle ahead, but by the time Dean gets in his Jeep and starts the engine the omega is nowhere to be seen.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** **NEW TRIGGER WARNINGS added for non-graphic, minor character suicide and a major character death. The second one refers to an off-screen, past death of a character who was major in the show but has not made an appearance in this series.**

 **Also, Dean hits Cas. (Sorry!)**

Hope Springs is a bloodbath when Dean and the other Camp Chitaqua residents arrive. The sanctuary's normal border patrol routines, like vehicle and body searches, are bypassed due to the urgency of the situation. The hunters can barely hear each other over the gunfire and anguished screams. Thankfully, the residents had an advanced warning and there seem to be only hunters out facing the croats.

Dean and his team pull off to the side into a small empty lot and start unpacking quickly. Although most of the fighting is at least a hundred feet away from them, they've attracted the attention of some croats already.

A giant of a hunter, Donovan, approaches Dean. He fires a shot right over Dean's shoulder as he greets him.

"Thanks for coming, Winchester," the hunter tells him. "Never seen so many organized croats in my life. I'm talking hundreds."

There are no emotional scents from the alpha, not even his neutral alpha smell. Camp Chitaqua uses off-brand scent suppressants on missions on the rare occasion that they are available (like this time, fortunately), but Hope Springs always has a high-quality supply.

"How many demons?" Dean asks, shooting an oncoming croat dead in the forehead.

"Two, from what we can tell," comes a familiar voice behind him. Dean turns around and takes a quick moment to give Ellen Harvelle the warmest hug that time allows. "One is in a female vessel. Pretty, with long, dark, wavy hair. The other is a bit portly, with a British accent from what I could hear. He's got red eyes."

Dean groans internally. This is not a good sign.

"Damn it. You know 'em, don't you?" Ellen asks.

"I think the woman is Meg. Bad news. Got a big grudge against me." He pauses as Ellen fires a few shots towards the street. Dean's team has started shooting as well, while still scurrying to unpack. "The male demon is Crowley. From what little time I've spent with him, he seems to be very 'anti-Lucifer.' It makes no sense that they would be working together."

"That's the thing," Donovan says. "They're not. Every time they run into each other they're at each other's throats, each one's Hellhounds fighting the other team."

"Hellhounds?" Dean hopes the scents of dread and terror don't overpower the layers of shitty blockers he applied. He's sure the blood draining from his face is noticeable, though.

"Don't worry, they only seem to be attacking each other, the demons, and some of them–" Ellen is cut off when Risa calls Dean's name urgently. Dean holds up his hand to signal her to wait, but she ignores him.

"Dean!"

"What?" Dean snaps at his fellow alpha.

"We have a problem." Risa pulls a grumpy-looking Cas out from behind her truck. "I found him hiding in the back in a sleeping bag."

Any blood that had drained from Dean's face at the mention of the Hellhounds is quickly replaced as he storms toward his ex-mate.

"You idiot," Dean growls, back-handing Cas, careful not to break any skin. The omega charges forward but Dean stops him with a hand to the throat. Cas' eyes widen and Dean moves his hand into a less threatening position, tightly gripping the back of his neck. Dean drags him like a dog toward Ellen and Donovan.

"Get him to one of your bunkers or safe houses," he orders Donovan. Dean knows it's not his place to be barking commands here, but Donovan seems to understand.

"Like hell," Cas snaps angrily. "I have every right to fight."

Dean can smell his ex's rage, either because of their past bond or because Cas made the stupid mistake of not putting on scent blockers. Probably both.

"I gave you the order to stay back," Dean says harshly. Cas jumps when Risa fires a loud shotgun into the skirmish that's getting closer to the parked convoy. "You're a danger to yourself and others."

"And you're under Hope Springs' jurisdiction," Ellen says with authority that makes Dean want to hug her again. "Donovan, do as Dean says. And get him some nourishment, he looks like a gust of wind would knock him over."

Donovan grabs Cas by the elbow. The omega tries to fight him off but it's useless. Donovan is about 250 lbs of pure alpha muscle.

"You keep him safe," Dean tells the other hunter.

"Will do," Donovan says, saluting him. He drags Cas off as the omega switches erratically between pleas towards Ellen and Donovan and profanities shouted at Dean in several different languages.

Dean turns to Ellen as the rest of his team join him, armed and somewhat ready. Most of them are firing occasional shots. Most bullets from the new volunteers are followed by those from the more experienced hunters, meaning that the first ones probably missed.

"What are they after?" Dean asks Ellen. He's never seen anything like it before. And with two demons on opposing sides?

"I don't know. Could be a hundred things. We're pretty sure they received an inside tip, though." Ellen's expression turns from her default neutral to bitter and cold.

"You-you think someone here would do that?" Chuck stutters.

Now there may be even more of a threat.

"One of our back gates was opened with the passcode. It changes daily. The salt lines and devil's traps were broken. You know our security," Ellen tells Dean. She has to nearly yell now over the noise of the battle that's quickly making its way closer.

Dean nods. Hope Springs hasn't had a single croat or demon attack in the four years since it was set up. "Give us your orders, ma'am."

Ellen quirks her lips up so subtly and so quickly that Dean almost misses it. "Dean, assign someone to get answers from the civilians in the safe zones. What the demons are after, who might have let them in."

Dean nods at Chuck, who looks shocked (as do some of the other members of the team). "Me?" the prophet asks.

"Yeah, you," Dean tells him. Sure, Chuck's people skills are awful, but his croat fighting skills are even worse. He doesn't normally come on missions unless it's crucial. Dean hates putting certain lives in front of others', but Chuck has value. As a… well, a toilet paper hoarding inventory checker, but also as a friend. "Start with the women and children," Dean says, knowing Chuck couldn't intimidate a newborn kitten. Then he has an idea. "You can work with Cas. You know, good cop, bad cop." Cas is cranky and violent enough to get information out of some of the tougher civilians.

"O-okay," Chuck agrees. Dean likes that plan. Chuck will be safe. Cas will be safe and also feel useful.

Ellen continues. "Dean, you look for the red-eyed demon and get what you can out of him. The rest of you," she looks to Dean's band of soldiers and misfits, "fight like hell. Listen to the hunters here, unless something doesn't seem right to you. Remember, we don't know who the traitor is. If you see someone you think is infected, don't keep it to yourself, even if it's your best friend. If you see a stray civilian, your priority is to get them to safety."

Ellen is a good leader. He sometimes wishes she and Jo would come to Camp Chitaqua, but they deserve better conditions than that.

Dean looks to his team. Some of them are nodding in agreement to what Ellen has told them to do. Many of them look petrified. Dean can easily point out which ones are least likely to make it. It's a skill he's been forced to become desensitized to.

"Alright," he tells them, trying his best to look and sound confident. "Let's go give 'em hell!"

The group makes their way into the main street and one of the newbies immediately goes down. Ellen blows the croat's brains out within two seconds but it's too late. The boy's neck has been broken.

"Keep moving!" Dean yells, trying not to focus on the teenager's mate's screaming. He can't think about it. Dean can never think about how he would react if it were Cas lying there on the ground, lifeless. He has to remind himself that his–no, not his–omega is being led to safety by one of the most competent hunters Dean has ever met.

As the group pushes forwards and starts to disperse, the young girl's cries become more distant. The boy's mate isn't following. Dean turns back to tell her that she has to leave the body just in time to see her put a gun in her mouth and pull the trigger.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean marches forward, refusing to look back at the doomed mated couple. He takes in the horror on everyone's faces and tries not to let it reflect on his own. He has become very desensitized to death, more so now than when the most he had to worry about was vampires and wendigos. Nowhere is safe now. Croatoan infection seems more common than someone coming down with the flu. What's harder than the death and gore is witnessing the wreckage left behind. The broken people losing everything that once kept them going.

A few members of Dean's small group slow down, distracted and upset by the loss of two young mates. One of the peppier camp members, a young woman who had been an avid follower of Cas' back in his orgy days, tries to boost the morale of the team as they start to disperse across the main street. Her voice shakes as she gives encouragement. She's trying to stay strong for her team. If the girl makes it through this, Dean wants to personally thank her.

Dean forces out an order to keep moving. The nickname "fearless leader" rings in the alpha's head. It's not a title that Dean is fond of but it is a title that he puts up a front to maintain. Fearless is far from the truth, though. "Good faker" is much closer.

Somewhere nearby, the town's emergency sirens blare for the first time in the history of Hope Springs, aside from drills. The residents are as prepared as they can be, though. Croats are not affected by holy water or the word Christo. Salt can slow them down but won't stop the bastards. Everyone who is able is equipped with guns and knives. Dean thinks he saw a guy with a katana.

Ellen stays on Dean's six as they pick their way through the street. The first-timers stay close to the more experienced hunters who offer cover and hit a lot of croats that the newbies miss. Ellen moves a little closer to Dean after he fails to hit a croat coming out of an alley on his first shot. She knows the alpha can fend for himself but she's always been protective of Dean and his brother. Ellen's behavior has only gotten more maternal since Sam turned himself over to the Devil.

"So how have you been?" she asks Dean. Small talk during a crisis is a skill that the seasoned hunters have mastered. "Besides hard to reach."

"Same old," Dean replies vaguely. "And you? How are you and Jo?"

Ellen aims over Dean's shoulder and takes out a croat. It seems to be her way of avoiding the question because she stays silent. Dean doesn't push.

The street lights start to flicker, casting ominous shadows across the stretch of road. Dean hears a low growl to his right and swings his shotgun in that direction, fear spiking.

"It's just the shepherds," Ellen explains. Her voice takes on an uncharacteristically gentle tone and Dean breathes a sigh of relief. He can still feel the phantom pains of sharp claws tearing his chest to shreds when he thinks of those bastard hellhounds.

Dean tries to shake it off as the lights flicker, dim, then turn off altogether.

"The generators will kick in any second now," one of Ellen's hunters assures him. Sure enough, the power returns.

 _Thank god,_ Dean thinks. It's almost dusk and no light means lower accuracy, especially for the hardly-trained camp members.

Dean mind wanders and he wonders how Cas is doing and, as an afterthought, how Chuck is doing. He wonders if they made it safely to the sheltered areas with Donovan. The walkie clipped to Ellen's belt loop is in low volume. Dean glances at it, thinking that they probably wouldn't be able to hear it over the commotion of gunfire and screaming if there were any problems.

"He'll be fine," Ellen chides. She has always had such a clear read on Dean, even when he thinks he is hiding things so well.

The alpha laughs under his breath. "If I didn't know you any better I'd think _you_ were the psychic this place has been hiding."

Ellen's mouth quirks up subtly for just a moment.

"Do you have any idea who gave you up?"

Ellen reloads her shotgun and aims into an alley. "No, but if push comes to shove we have another card up our sleeve." She suddenly freezes and taps Dean's arm. Dean follows her gaze into the alley where a dark, still figure stands at the far end.

"Keep going, I'll take care of this," Dean tells her. Ellen nods and pushes forward as Dean steps into the darkness.

The alpha lets his eyes adjust before approaching the stout man clad in an expensive dark suit. "Crowley."

"Winchester," the demon greets him cheerily. A deep growl of a hellhound rumbles behind him and Dean's blood runs cold. "Fancy meeting you here."


	5. Chapter 5

The demon pats an illusion of empty space to his right. Dean's nails bite into his palms as he waits for the command that will have him torn to pieces for the second time.

"Easy, Dean," Crowley coos. "You're not on tonight's menu."

"Comforting." Dean doesn't relax his stance. "What the hell are you doing here, then?"

The demon smirks. It's unsettling. "I'm here to save your asses."

"You brought a _hellhound_ to a town of innocent people. How is that saving anyone?"

Crowley pats the invisible abomination at his side. "Juliet is simply here to take care of the runt that low-class demon bitch brought. Unless you want your precious humans to be puppy chow."

"Why do you care what Meg does?" Dean, of course, cares what Meg does. But he can't imagine Crowley concerning himself with human lives.

"She's a Lucifer groupie, of course," Crowley tells him. "And she's here to collect a souvenir for him: Hope Springs' hidden treasure."

Dean keeps his mouth shut and his expression blank.

"Aren't you curious?" the demon prods. "Or is it that you already know?" Crowley apparently tires of waiting because he clicks his tongue and presses forward. "The psychic, Dean."

"How do you know about that?" _Dean_ doesn't even know who the psychic is. Missouri Moseley has lived here since the town was founded but as far as Dean is aware, her gifts are limited to reading people and objects.

"Word travels fast. Especially when most of the world is dead. There's less of an opportunity for the message to get jumbled up."

Dean tries to keep his composure as the hellhound pants just feet away from him. "So you wanna get to them first? You're wasting your time with me. I have no clue who the psychic is." And if he did, there's no chance he would ever reveal their location to Crowley.

"While I would love to pick the little one's brain a bit, my priority is to stop the little whore from getting her dirty paws on all of that power." _The little one?_ Dean's blood runs cold at the realization that the psychic is a child. The alpha is far too familiar with the bone-crushing pressure of families, towns–hell, the entire world–depending on even the smallest choices you make. Whoever this kid is, Dean wants even more strongly to keep them safe.

"Do you know who they are?"

Crowley sighs. "Sadly, no. But Meg does. Apparently, the two share a bit of a bloody history. If we don't stop them from reuniting, we will have an even bloodier future on our hands."

Dean hears a loud crash out on the street and even louder gunfire.

"Here comes the cavalry," Crowley announces. Dean turns around and sees a massive tank rolling past, the military's bold logo painting the side. It reads "CCDC: Croatoan Civil Defense Corps." They are blaring the usual rock musical that normally puts Dean at ease but makes him sick when paired with machine guns and assholes in camo pants.

"Shit." Dean spins on his heel only to find himself just inches away from Crowley. The demon pushes a pair of plastic-framed glasses into his hands.

"Here's an extra set of eyes if you need them."

Dean is about to ask what the fuck a pair of glasses will do for him when a stray bullet whizzes past his ear. He ducks, and when he straightens up and looks around, Crowley is gone. He hopes the devil dog followed her master.

Dean is almost out of the dimly-lit alley when a large figure ducks into it.

"Donovan." The massive hunter's normally stoic demeanor seems to be chipping away. It could be the appearance of the reckless CCDC or maybe– "Where's Cas?"

Α|Ω

The noisy arrival of the tanks provided the ideal distraction to escape from Chuck and Donovan. While the prophet struggled to put on a calm facade for the civilians and Donovan started preparing his weapons, Cas found an unguarded side door.

It's only a matter of time before Chuck notices and then, inevitably, Dean. The alpha will be pissed, of course, but Dean would do the same thing if he was forced to the sidelines like a child. Perhaps his former mate is punishing him for breaking the bond the way that he did. Cas feels a sharp pang in his chest, the same spot that's been home to a constant ache since the day he ended things–hell, since the day he lost the baby.

Cas takes a deep breath and tries to center himself. If he lets his emotions get the best of him his scent will give him away. Dean and the croats will be able to smell him from a mile away. In his rush to sneak out of the camp, the omega had stupidly forgotten to put on scent blockers.

Cas makes sure his revolver is fully loaded and peers around the corner into the street. He's immediately met with a hand to the throat as he's pushed roughly against the brick wall.

"At least buy me dinner, first," Cas groans. He hadn't even gotten two feet into the fray before he was overpowered by a _human_ , of all things.

"You're the angel, right?"

Cas coughs at the uncomfortable pressure at his throat. "Not anymore, Mr... ahh…." He glances down at the badge the man is wearing. It bears the CCDC crest along with his last name. "Trenton."

"Cole." The man sneers at him. "Where's your mate?"

Cas forces out a laugh until Cole pushes him harder against the wall. "You really need to update your data."

The man inhales through his nose and shakes his head at the dark scents the omega is giving off. "You need to get it together before you get us both killed."

Cole releases Castiel and pulls an aerosol canister out of his bag. Cas is just catching his breath when a thick mist is sprayed in his face, then down the rest of his body. The military-grade blocker instantly dissolves every external trace of Cas' emotional turmoil. He longs for something to dissolve the _internal_ traces.

"Now," Cole stares the fallen angel down. "Where is Winchester?"

Cas grips his throat, feeling dizzy from the lack of oxygen. That will definitely leave a bruise. "Bite me."

Cole takes a step closer. "I don't want any trouble with you. You're obviously just a victim in the trail of destruction Dean Winchester leaves behind."

Cas hits Cole with more strength than he thought he had in him. He knocks the soldier to the ground. "I am _not_ a victim." Especially not a victim of Dean.

When Cole reaches for his gun Cas kicks it away, aiming his own weapon at the man. "What do you want with him?"

Cole spits blood onto the pavement; Cas split his lip open. He really should seal the wound before moving on to any croats. "Dean Winchester took everything from me."

Cas tilts his head to the side. "How?"

"He killed my father," Cole's voice cracks. "In cold blood."

"Now that doesn't sound like him."

Castiel keeps his weapon aimed at the man who smiles bitterly at him. "He's really got you under his spell, doesn't he?"

Two croats come around the corner, closing in on Cole. Cas has a tiny, horrible urge to let them get the soldier in front of him before he realizes he must be losing his fucking mind for even considering that option for a moment. He's here to _save_ humans, no matter how arrogant and delusional they are.

It takes him three shots to hit the first croat and two shots to hit the second. His hands are shaky and his vision blurs occasionally, and Castiel reluctantly comes to the conclusion that Dean may have been right about the omega's current level of competence.

Cole shakes his head but still mutters out a "thanks." Cas reaches out a hand and pulls Cole off of the ground, nearly face-planting in the process. The soldier opens his mouth to comment but his walkie chirps before he can. A tinny voice crackles from the device, calling for back up to the eastern fence, where a hoard of particularly strong croats has broken through the reinforcements.

Cole makes eye contact with Cas for a moment before giving him a scrutinizing glance from top to bottom. "Try not to get yourself killed," he says hesitantly. Cole looks at him as if Cas' odds of surviving the rest of the day are slim to none.

Cas nods at him, then gestures to Cole's bleeding lip. "You should take care of that. Super Glue works well enough."

"Thanks," Cole grumbles. He gives Cas an awkward wave before running off to follow his orders.

Cas wonders if he should warn Dean that there is a pissed-off human in line to destroy him–a line that already includes no less than two demons, hundreds of croats, and the devil himself. Even though this guy should be no problem for the alpha, Dean should at least be made aware of the guy. Cas will have to find an indirect way to get the message to him, though. Dean has enough on his plate without worrying about Cas being without a babysitter.

Before he steps out of the alley Cas reloads his revolver. It took him _five_ shots to take down two croats. He has a sawed-off holstered to his back and his angel blade, but he still feels vulnerable.

Cas looks across the street into the town's grocery store. The windows are smashed and there are croats rummaging around inside, probably looking for civilians. Cas is about to move on when something catches his eye, making him freeze. It's a small girl, no older than ten. She's standing on a pile of rubble, just staring at him. She doesn't look infected; she looks calm. The girl has a certain aura about her that is achingly familiar to Cas.

He considers calling out to her but he doesn't want to draw attention. Cas lowers his gun to avoid scaring her and tries to wave her over to him. The girl shakes her head, long blonde strands of hair falling over her face.

Cas hears the growl of a hellhound come from inside the store. The girl turns toward the sound. She glances once more back to Cas before stepping over broken glass and through what's left of the front door.

Castiel follows.


End file.
